The Witcher has been one of my fandoms for the past fifteen years, but only now I decided to write additional bits I wanted to see, perhaps different endings I wanted for some plots. Obviously, there are and will be spoilers for the saga ending, though if you've played the games, you're probably familiar with the ending anyway.
There is a part of me that feels I should have written that in Polish, but then trying to fit in the canon in English was just additional challenge. I did my best trying to stick to the book characters. Just to make things clear - this story will never have anything to do with Netflix.
There is whump, there is angst, there are feels. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter I

'If the water is cold, get out', Ciri told them.

Geralt wanted to. He just found out he couldn't. His arm would not bear his weight, his back would not bend. And the damn water was cold. The witcher realised his hands were shaking so badly he couldn't even wipe the wet hair from his face.

Yennefer, curled by his side, started shivering just as violently. She looks so small, he thought.

"Ciri, help Yen."

The sorceress grunted and seemed about to object, but as Ciri bent over and grabbed her under armpits, she let Geralt push her up and stumbled out. Whatever they did next, it involved quite a lot of cursing and hissing. The witcher closed his eyes and listened to Ciri chattering. It was enough. They were both right there. Alive.

"Geralt." Yennefer's voice came to him distant, as if she was behind a wall.

"Mmm?" He blinked at the fog clouding his vision.

"Come join me?"

"Mmm. In a moment."

There was definitely a snort this time. "Help him too. You know he won't ask."

When he looked up, he saw Ciri crouching beside him. She pulled him up on the edge of the pool and he bit back a cry, surprised by the flaming pain that tore through his chest and shoulder. Clutching his side with the arm he couldn't hope to lift, he took Ciri's outstretched hand and let her help him. His knuckles turned white in that grip, but somehow his legs managed to hold his weight. He limped to the bench where Yennefer was donning her skirt and belatedly realised he was still stark naked.

"Nobody minds," the sorceress muttered distractedly and tossed him his trousers.

"Yen..." Geralt objected out of habit, but Yennefer didn't react. They both fumbled with their garments, their hands too shaky to deal with all the clasps and buckles. Once they were moderately decent, neither bothered with the rest of their clothes.

Ciri was sitting on another bench, constantly talking.

"... And there is truly nobody here. I checked. They all left. I even got your sword back." The girl hopped from the bench and went out, only to return in a moment with the sihil in her hand. "Though that's not the sword I remember. Geralt? Where did you get that? What happened to-"

"Slow down, girl." Yennefer stopped her with exasperation. "That's what you want to know? Where he got his sword?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing." The sorceress laughed and shook her head.

"I should hope so." Geralt threw her an offended look. "It was a gift from Zoltan, a friend I met on my way. We parted, but he wished to get to know you. Perhaps…"

"I'd like that, yes," Ciri nodded eagerly. She made a move like she wanted to pass him the sihil, but instead she found the scabbard and sheathed the sword.

Geralt let her. The thought that somewhere there he probably still had friends alive was refreshing. The witcher hoped the dwarven company stayed away from the war like they had intended to. He promised Zoltan a story. Some more conscious, distant part of him realised it wasn't a story he would ever want to recall, not when he was the only one alive to tell it.

"Geralt?"

"I want out. Away." Right now anywhere would do. Anyhow. The witcher wiped his eyes, hoping to blink away fatigue and that overwhelming urge to leave.

"Geralt. I doubt I will make it down the stairs again. Or that you will, for that matter."

He wouldn't have. Dizzy as he was even sitting, standing up and going anywhere seemed right now too hard a task. He was tired.

"I don't fancy sleeping here," he said anyway. The bathroom was getting cold. Or maybe it was just that his body lacked energy to keep him moderately warm anymore.

"You were about to fall asleep in that pool a moment ago." Yennefer pointed out. "But I agree, this bench is damn uncomfortable."

"We are not going anywhere tonight. I'll see if I can find us a better place to sleep."

With Ciri gone, silence fell in the bathroom. They were too tired to talk, too sore to move. Yennefer tried to comb her damp locks with her fingers, but gave up with a hiss and rested her head on the witcher's shoulder. Her cheek was the only warmth he felt.

Ciri came back soon. "There is a room at the end of this corridor. Can you make it there?"

"Is there a bed?"

"A big one." Ciri promised. Her grin looked a bit forced.

"Then I will crawl if I have to." Yennefer sat straight with a curse, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"I can't carry you," Geralt admitted miserably.

"And I can't do any healing right now." Yennefer shot back. "Now instead of talking about what we cannot do, can we move to the part when we can lie down on something that is not a damp bench?"

"You know, I will help you." Ciri sounded a bit petulant, as if she thought they forgot about her. "Both of you."

They both left, Ciri keeping close in case Yennefer needed assistance. Geralt waited for the dizzy spell to pass, then tried to follow. He made it as far as to the doors, then the world started swimming too hard.

xxx

Ciri found him like that a few minutes later, holding the frame as if his life depended on it, trying to will away darkness blurring the edges of his vision. His sword arm was shaking from exhaustion, the other, almost useless, wrapped protectively around his ribs. Each shiver sent painful spasms down his spine.

"Can't," he hissed, sheepish.

Ciri ducked under his arm, wrapped her own around his waist. He let go of the frame reluctantly, half expecting to fall face-flat.

He didn't.

"I won't tell."

Ciri held him surprisingly steady despite the height difference. Slowly, painfully they made it down the corridor which spun the way it most certainly shouldn't have. A wave of relief washed over the witcher as he finally slumped on the bed with a moan. It was big indeed, Yennefer sprawled flat on her back hardly took a third of space.

"Kelpie!" Ciri exclaimed so suddenly that Geralt turned, half expecting to see said demon in the doors.

"What?" He yelped as the sudden movement blurred his vision again.

"My horse. I left her outside, I... Oh, damn, hope she's alright." Ciri swirled and grasped her sword. "Gonna check on her. Where's Roach?"

For the first time this evening, Geralt felt his lips quirk at the certainty in Ciri's voice as she spoke his mare's name.

"Skellen's people must have taken them all."

"Alright, I'll have a look aro- Geralt, what are you doing?"

"Coming," he hissed. Most certainly at least three of his ribs were broken. It was a miracle his spine wasn't, though at the moment the thought was hardly comforting. "Just- Argh!"

"Geralt, dammit, sit down! You'll faint and I really don't want to get up and drag you back to bed." Yennefer sat up and glared at the witcher. "Be quick, Ciri."

Geralt surrendered. Or perhaps it was his legs that refused to carry him anywhere. He sat not too gently on the mattress, heaving. Whatever had kept him up was already gone and he was utterly spent. Still, as he more or less managed to get his breathing under control, he stared at the doors where Ciri left and felt his muscles tense and spasm. She shouldn't have...

"Let her."

"Yen, I told you..."

"I don't need to read your mind. It's all over your face."

"Is it." Surely there was pure exhaustion and little else.

"Geralt." Yennefer moved closer and prompted him to lie down beside her. "You let go once today. You- we let her go. Now that you got her back, you are unable to do so again even for a briefest moment."

"And you didn't just pick that from my thoughts?"

"No. Because I am not letting you out of my sight anytime soon." Her locks were still damp as they brushed against his shoulder. "But... Let her. She just got you back too. Let her take care of you. She needs that."

"So you picked that from hers?"

"Believe me, she can be quite as obvious as you are." Yennefer stopped any complaints he might have had with a kiss. "Now stay like that. I can't do much right now, but I want to check on you at least."

"It won't hurt any less," Geralt muttered, but knew better than to argue.

"I want to know you won't bleed out internally during the night. Or stop breathing." There was this hint of softness again, something Yennefer showed very few.

Geralt closed his eyes and tried to relax. "Ouch. Stop poking, Yen. I already know it hurts."

"Wake me up if breathing gets worse."

"Only if you promise the same."

xxx

"I got your things." The doors swung open as Ciri rushed in, with a loaf of bread in hand and two saddlebags tossed over her shoulder. One Geralt recognised as his own indeed, the other must have been hers. Ciri put them down and knelt by them, searching for something.

"Geralt, do you know these? I have a bag full of herbs here." Ciri called over her shoulder and rose from the floor.

"You got Regis's bag? Splendid." Geralt pushed himself to sit. Behind him, Yennefer didn't make the slightest move.

"I was hungry," Ciri admitted, sheepish. "I searched your bags for food. I thought maybe there would be something helpful there."

"There is indeed," Geralt nodded slightly.

While he found and prepared herbs Regis used to offer him for pain, Ciri lit the fire and brought more blankets, then left to have a wash. This time Geralt said nothing. Once the herbs started working, he found it neigh impossible to keep his eyes open. He let his eyelids fall and settled for listening.

xxx

Geralt stirred at the movement. It wasn't Yen. She was fast asleep, her face buried in his shoulder. He could feel her shallow breaths through his shirt. No. There was someone to his left.

"Ciri," he whispered and opened his eyes. She was there, standing over the bed. She startled at his voice.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." It wasn't exactly a lie. While his mind drifted at the edge of consciousness, he was in and out, discomfort keeping him from getting real rest.

Ciri was still standing there, hovering. Geralt glanced at the bedroll she had prepared earlier, one she clearly hadn't used. Suddenly the girl he saw was not sixteen, but eleven, small and frightened by the howling wind and her nightmares alike.

"Come here."

"I don't..."

"Ciri. Just come here."

She didn't need any more prompting. The mattress bent as Ciri curled at his free side. Slowly, careful not to hurt him, she snuggled closer and went still. Her hand found his.

"I..."

"It's alright," he promised. "I won't tell."

Geralt felt Ciri smile at that. He wished he could caress her, but he couldn't move his arm. Last time Ciri sought him out like that, they were on their way to Kaer Morhen. He remembered sitting by her at nights, making sure she would get some rest. Now the urge to shield her seemed stronger than ever. The girl nestled by his side was no longer a child, yet not a grown woman either. It changed nothing.

In time, she would talk. Maybe he would too. But for now, it was enough to stay close, to listen to the heartbeat slowing down as the sleep finally overcame both of them.

In time, they would talk.

Thank you for reading. I love and appreciate all kind of feesback, so feel free to be honest. I accept crtiticism.